


Matchmaking Shenanigans

by nikoline3481



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, F/M, Matchmaking, doctor Katara, sokka is cupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikoline3481/pseuds/nikoline3481
Summary: Sokka is the most notorious matchmaker on the NYU campus. Toph walks in and demands a match.“Well, you have a couple of shady guys, my best friend, a girl who matched about sixty percent of the way with you. Then there’s a guy with super Harry Potter glasses who you matched up eighty-five percent of the way. And that’s about it.”“You’re lying. Who’s the hottie at the very end? My perfect match?”
Relationships: Toph Beifong/Sokka, implied and eventual Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Matchmaking Shenanigans

“Are you sure we’re the perfect fit?”

I’m staring at my sister, Katara, across the table, running the same old software to tell me the findings of the new system I’ve created. Sure enough, the results are the exact same. A hundred percent match. 

“I’m sure,” I say, reaching across the table to still her tapping hand. “Why the skepticism?”

She throws her hands up exasperatedly and tells me, “He’s two years younger than me! A freshman!”

I’m confused. What’s so wrong with a college junior and a freshman dating? “I’m sure you can set your confusing and terribly stereotypical age quotas to the side for a moment or so to  _ give it a chance. _ ”

Katara narrows her eyes at me before poking a finger in my direction. “What’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be an annoying cock-block. Not sure this is very brotherly of you, Sokka.”

And she’s right. It isn’t. But it is, too, because before this, Katara was holed up in her room, curled up in the fetal position with her MCAT prep book in one hand, and a day old mac and cheese container in the other. Needless to say, she was miserable. If my matchmaking services needed to pop out for a quick sec, then that’s just what they did. 

“Look. Go out with Aang. Try it. If you don’t like him, you can have your money back,” I quip, leaning back in the booth while Katara all but spits out her coffee. 

“I did NOT agree to pay you for this. You asked to set me up with someone. I said fine, but only because you said something about perfect matches and I was genuinely curious about your software because of all the organ donor stuff I’ve been looking into and-”

I sigh. “Look, will you just get out of your dorm for a couple days? Go see a movie with this guy. Go to the damn opera, for all I care. Just do something  _ fun _ , sis.” I reach for her hand again. 

She eyes me like she’s trying to figure out if there’s something I’m hiding. Jeez, is it so hard to believe I care about my sister? But then she’s rolling her eyes playfully, accepting Aang’s phone number and shooting him a quick text to meet her in Central Park at noon today. 

“Take care of yourself,” I add as she stands up to leave, and I’m rewarded with one of Katara’s warmest smiles, most of them only reserved for our late mother. 

The door clanks with a loud  _ ding  _ behind her as the wind chimes crash against the metal. But then it happens again and I’m looking up and  _ oh my fucking platypus bears.  _ I might just be girling the most gorgeous seen I’ve ever- wait that’s not right. The most girl beautiful right walked- nope that’s not it either. 

I’m still scrambling to collect my thoughts when the raven-haired beauty approaches the table a little hesitantly. And then I’m struck all over again as she looks at me, her eyes a glossy green, shined over like she’s a little spaced out. She curves her perfectly adorable, swollen red mouth into the most radiant smile I’ve ever seen and my heart stutters. 

“B-beautiful d-d-day, isn’t it?” I’m stammering and tripping and falling over all the words. It's completely embarrassing but that’s not why my cheeks have flushed the deepest color of red they can go. 

She smiles even wider and plays right along though. “Oh sure. It’s very dark outside.”

Okay, now I’m a little confused. It’s broad daylight, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, some random disney princess in a faraway land is singing an obnoxiously high-pitched tune. I open my mouth to tell her as much when she snorts. 

“I’m just messing with you,” she says, as she sits down. “I’m blind.” The girl waves her hand dumbly in front of her face.

And suddenly, I’m laughing, one of the first times since Mom passed away, and all because the most beautiful blind girl came and sat down in front of me in a coffeeshop. 

She props her chin up on her palm as she gets situated, and holds out her other pale, ivory-skinned hand to me. I try not to take it too eagerly, but then my hand is in hers and I  _ swear _ I see an actual spark of electricity zap right there between us. 

She blushes when I hold on for too long and pulls her hand back into her lap. I’m staring a few seconds longer when I’m finally struck by the downright  _ weirdness  _ of this situation. A random, but positively riveting, female off the streets comes into his main area of conducting “business” and just decides to sit down and have a scone with me?  _ So weird.  _ I almost shudder until the girl takes a breath, ready to speak. 

“So, my name is Toph Beifong.”

The right side of my mouth quirks up and I’m sitting there grinning. Gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl. I lean forward, purposely lowering my voice, leaning just close enough to see eyelashes so long it should be a crime. I know Katara would strangle just about anyone for lashes like those. 

“I’m Sokka. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Toph doesn’t react further, just closes her eyes and turns her face up, her smile widening. 

“ _ So,  _ what can I do you for, milady Beifong?”

The smile drops off her face so fast I might not have noticed it if my attention was fixed anywhere else in the room. She raises her hand like she wants to gesture at something but thinks better of it and sits on her hand instead. I shrug at this. She must be a fidgeter like Katara. 

“You’re the matchmaking dunce on NYU’s campus, right?”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a dunce,” I say as she rolls her eyes and looks pointedly at me as if to say _ really?  _ “But yes, that is me and my legacy here at NYU. Oh no, don’t tell me. Did I give someone a horrible match? Is that what this is? A lecture about how I shouldn’t be telling other teens what to do?”   


“Hey, whoa, no.”

“Then what’d you come here to ask for, Birdie?”

She furrows her brow at the nickname but plows on. “I need you to match me with someone. Like, in the very near future.”

My stomach drops and I can’t help but feel the slightest twinge of disappointment. I raise my eyebrows self-consciously. “Well, what kind of a timeline are we looking at here? We could set you up on dates with-”

“No, I actually need one now.” She winces at the sound of her request out loud, her face flashing hot with that sheepish feeling. 

“Oh, okay.” Damn lucky guy. “Well, let’s fill out a form together. What are your interests?”

“Oh that’s easy. Kicking butt.” She slaps her palm against her fist and rubs, a wicked gleam resting in the glossy green hue of her eyes. 

I’m smiling again before I can help it. “Do you do martial arts at something?”

“Used to. I actually took up boxing when I came to NYU. Wanted something a little easier.”

“Hey, now. Boxing isn’t _that_ easy. The gym on 83rd is _heaping_ with ex-convicts and-”

“No way,” she interrupts, green eyes wide and white teeth sparkling. “I just started there!”

“I’ll have to come visit you sometime,” I say. But in reality, see, watching girls fight is fascinating but  _ really, really, really  _ uncomfortable. Take it from a guy who watched his ex-girlfriend get beaten to a pulp by a girl who now attends a mental asylum. 

“Nah, you couldn’t take me on,” she says, leaning over to inspect my biceps. I can only hope she can’t hear how fast my heart is beating. “You’d be lucky to get a scratch in.”

I shake my head, pressing my tongue to my cheek. “Wow, someone’s a little cocky, huh? Guess I’ll just put overconfidence into the system…” I clack the keys, typing the word in and quickly backspacing. 

She gasps and gives a breathy laugh. My heart clenches. “You wouldn’t dare!” Toph grabs for the computer, sure enough to slam the top down, but I move it out of the way at the last second. She huffs, moving around the table, and suddenly my mouth is drier than the biscuits they serve here. I’m trying, and  _ failing _ to turn my eyes away from the slight curves of her hips and the lovely little dip in her chest, when she lunges forward to grab the laptop. 

“Not so fast,” I tease, and because I can’t help myself, I’m holding the laptop over my head. Not even caring if the precious baby drops to the ground, smashing itself to smithereens. All I can hear is Toph’s loud laugh, bright and infectious, her metal arm bracelet clanking against the zipper on the jacket that’s risen over her shoulder. All I see is her white smile, shining and brilliant, so fucking beautiful, right in my face. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. 

Whoa. What the hell am I thinking? She’s a paying client. Or she will be anyway. 

“God, I’m deleting your entire page about me. It must be like, ‘Toph Beifong, NYU’s biggest troll, lives under a bridge, give her your money or she’ll start bragging about her gym skills and hurt your self-esteem.”

I yelp. “My self-esteem is  _ just fine _ , thank you very much.” I turn my nose up at her, bringing the laptop around to my back. She leans onto my chest, feeling around for stability and it’s the first time I notice she actually has a walking stick. 

But it’s not like I care because her hands are on my shoulders and oh god oh god what if she  _ kisses  _ me?

My brain doesn’t complain. So I quietly look down at her. My eyelashes flutter and she turns her face up closer to mine.

She clears her throat. Loudly. “Sorry. Allergies, I guess. Anyways, how about finishing that profile?”

I nod, helping her back to her seat before taking my own again. “So, interests?”

“Well,  _ besides  _ ass-kicking. I’m majoring in computer science at NYU. I like tinkering with my text-to-speech software a lot,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

She’s self-conscious. And now I’m fidgeting, just like Katara, a little uncomfortable because I’m not sure what to say. Have people given her shit about that before? 

As if reading my mind, she supplies me with a simple, “My parents.”

And I understand. Dad wanted me to come home, take care of the other families that lived on the reservation. But I blatantly disregarded his wishes and...ended up here, to say the least. NYU took me as a transfer from Waubonsee Community College in Illinois. I certainly got lucky, and I’m grateful I’m here, but my dad never calls. I never call. Katara tries to avoid talking or texting him whenever I’m there with her. 

I can tell he still hasn’t forgiven me. Hopefully, Toph’s will forgive her. Although I’m not sure what a sweet, snarky yet harmless being like her could’ve done to merit any forgiveness whatsoever. I shake the thought out of my head, acknowledging her with a nod before I release she can’t see it-  _ damn  _ it - and I prompt her for more. 

“Okay, rapid fire round. Just tell me about yourself.”

“Uh, okay. I’m a purebred New Yorker. My parents own the company that started the project self-driving cars-”

“Wow, must be nice having a mechanical chauffeur,” I interrupt.

“Yeah, also nice having a technical robot be your first kiss, but anyway-”

“Oh my god. No. You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

She widens her eyes. “It was an accident!” A nervous laugh bursts from her lips. “I swear, these kids were pushing me around, I didn’t know where I was going, and face planted one day.”

“Interesting story. Hope you won’t cheat on your new boyfriend with any planes,” I quip back. 

She smiles and grabs the nearest strawberry scone, chucking it at my head. I manage to dodge it just in time, but that doesn’t stop the manager from yelling at us from behind the counter. 

“Anyways,” she says, giggling, “I’ve been to approximately two school dances. And no, one of them was not senior prom.”

“Oh, come on. How come you missed prom?”

She stops giggling and swallows hard. “Didn’t have a date.” But for some reason the slight strain in her voice tells me there’s something more to the story. 

I don’t push. It’s none of my business. She can tell her...boyfriend when she meets him. The words, even in my head, rub the wrong way and I’m reeling from my own thoughts. So that is why I find myself blurting whatever my stupid brain coughs up next. 

“I would’ve taken you. To prom, I mean.”

Her green eyes go wide, staring at me intently. I offer a sheepish smile (which, damn, I really have to stop doing when I’m trying to tell her something). She starts to play with her fingers on the table and I feel I may have crossed the line. As a matchmaker. 

“Anyways, I like to sing. Listen to music. And just...lay down in this one lake at midnight. It’s off the island. The water’s really cool, and it’s so quiet. It’s my favorite spot. Ever.”

“Really?” I ask, practically mesmerized. 

“Really.” She tilts her head and blushes. I practically melt into a puddle of goo right then and there. 

I’m about to propose that we take a trip to see it together when I remember that she is  _ not my girlfriend.  _ Anywho. “Year in school? And do you have a preference for age range or genders?”

“I’m a freshman this year, actually. Anyone from a freshman to senior is fine for me. Just make sure they’re not a straight up creeper.” I let out a little snicker. “Anywho, no preference for gender.”

I nod, putting the rest of her information into the system as I interrogate her on everything she’s done in life, embellishing a little so the software can spit out the best results possible. But I’m gaping when I see Zuko, my best friend, pop up as her first match. Barely fifty percent. My eyes move over the next couple, a dickwad in my year named Zhao. A shy guy with such a serious case of metalmouth, I wince. A guy named Haru with the  _ sickest  _ facial hair, I might’ve just picked him for myself. But as I scroll to the next three matches my heart stops. 

The first is a girl with long brown hair, tied into the longest braid he’s ever seen, named Ty Lee. The only thing is, her profile states her to be “a lover, not a fighter.” I shudder, thinking of the only place  _ that  _ relationship could go. A sixty percent match. Then it’s a guy named Satoru. He’s charming, I guess, with chunky glasses and that toothy smile that girls always seem to love. It’s an eighty-five percent match. But I can’t imagine  _ any  _ of these people with Toph, the girl that’s been sitting in front of me spilling everything about herself for the past hour. I scroll down to the last profile, sipping the last of my hot coffee Toph ordered me. 

And I promptly spit it to the side. 

The last profile is mine. The last profile. Is mine. And it’s a ninety-nine percent match. I read the software’s run-through of why it picked me for Toph. It says we’ve got the same sense of humor, we both have plenty of snark to offer our peers, we’re both looking for someone special and possibly even permanent. The last sentence describes us as a dynamic duo, like we might be some kind of hero vigilante group that dresses up and goes out on the town at night to save poor old ladies and cats from potentially life-threatening tree situations. 

I’m laughing when Toph’s head snaps up, giving me a baffled look. “So who’d I get? You gonna tell me or keep me to yourself?” 

I let out a nervous whinny and stick my head straight in front of the computer screen, blocking her out of my view. “Well you have a couple of shady guys, my best friend, a girl who matched about sixty percent of the way with you. Then there’s a guy with super Harry Potter glasses who you matched up eighty-five percent of the way. And that’s about it.” I tap my foot under the table nervously, our glasses knocking together with the force. 

She smiles like she can see right through me, like I’m a goddamn piece of glass. “You’re lying. Who’s the hottie at the very end? My perfect match?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows seductively. 

I can feel my cheeks heat before I just decide to get the whole thing over with. “Um. It’s me.”

Her mouth rounds into one perfect little ‘o’ and I look away, embarrassed that she most likely doesn’t want me. Despite the time we just spent together (spoiler, even matchmaking dunces don’t usually take this long). 

But I hear her breathy laugh, the nervous one, and she reaches across the table for my hand. My chest feels like a balloon, filling up each minute that passes with her hand on the table. I slowly slide mine into hers, dainty and soft. I love it and I hate it right away. I never want to let the puny little thing go. 

“What was the match probability?”

“Ninety-nine percent,” I stammer. 

Her face softens and she moves to sit next to me in the little booth. I might be forgetting to breathe. Just a little bit. She puts her hand on my chest and I swear I’m on the verge of breaking. 

“Sokka…” It’s the first time she says my name, and I don’t care if she’s about to reject me because it might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I want to kiss my name off her lips while we lay tangled up in bed, limbs everywhere, small smooches that are never gauged for the proper aim. I want her to smile into my mouth, I want to kiss her blind eyes. 

“Toph?”

She reaches for my other hand and brings it to her lips. I shudder as she kisses my knuckles slowly. 

“Will you go out with me? On a date. Although, not sure if it’ll be the first or the second, considering this seemed to be enough in my book to qualify as one.” And she smiles again, pressing my hands to her face. 

“But I’m a matchmaker, I don’t...do this sort of thing.”

“Then why make the profile?”   


She has a pretty darn good point. Toph leans in, feeling the resolution in the steadiness of my pulse. 

“Wait,” I whisper. 

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this and- I’m not going to date you and just-” She presses my palm onto her cheek, sniffs the inside of my wrist as obvious as a pregnant elephant might be. “I don’t want to be abandoned. I know how that might feel…”

Toph smiles the warmest I’ve ever seen it this morning that I’ve come to her and I know. She would never do that to me. I let out a breath and press my forehead to hers, and I finally realize she’s “looking” at me the same way I’ve been looking at her since she walked in the clanking door. 

“I won’t, Sokka. I won’t, I promise. But I mean, it’s going to be kinda hard after I wipe the floor with you at the gym.” I lean back and she’s got that big shit-eating grin on her face, a wicked gleam in her eyes. 

“Oh, that’s happening, huh?”

“If you’ll have me,” she says, innocently. 

I never would’ve thought she’d be the one to seek approval. But then I vaguely remember her short remark on her parents and press her to my chest so fast and tight, she lets out a small squeak. 

“Can I just ask you something?” I say after a little bit. 

“You just did. Shoot, Code Freak?” I smile at the nickname and pull her the tiniest bit closer. 

“Eh, find another one for me, will you? Anyways, why were you in such a huge hurry to have me?”

“Oh, that.” She scratches at the back of her neck and shrugs. “Story for another day, actually?”

And she’s back in my arms, scrunching my jacket in her fist. I can smell the soft scent of water lilies in her hair, burying my face in the waves.

“You got it, Birdie. 

Katara doesn’t bother to hide her absolute shock when I end up making out with Toph in the NYU library the next week. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! This was a really quick fic to write and it's been a long time since I posted so I just thought I'd do a one-shot. Hope you liked it :)


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